


The Inevitability of Misfortune

by Wizard95



Series: A Scot In Training [3]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Farrier reprising his role as the Wing Commander, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizard95/pseuds/Wizard95
Summary: Collins doesn't watch out, because he is too busy looking at Farrier whilst Farrier isn't looking. And thus when he turns his head back to the front, to where the game he'd forgotten was taking placeistaking place, the white ball is coming straight for his head, for the goal, no doubt, and he happens to be just in the middle of its way.Or: Collins is cornered into joining a very dreadful football match which ends up as expected: with him bleeding on the ground.





	The Inevitability of Misfortune

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, enjoy another installment of the A Scot In Training series! Or as I like to call it: the "How Can I Make Jack Suffer Today?" series...

  

 

 

 

 

Sundays they got free. No training, no lessons, just a whole twelve hours for them to kill. It was a small town and by the end of the first month they'd already visited every pub in it and been banned from one, something that had not amused the Air Marshal. They'd been forbidden further drinking, then, and been assigned a chaperone, much to everyone's chagrin.

 

There was also a lack of single female population in the area and it seemed none of the recruits felt particularly inclined to woo anyone today. Jack sat on one of the many tables in the room and once in a while glanced to his back, where Lenny was no doubt cooking up some scheme to have him sent home once and for all. 

 

See, he had come to the conclusion that Leonard was in fact always present whenever misfortune happened to come his way. A never-ending cycle of questionable actions that ultimately led to unpleasant situations. Hence Jack's resolution not to follow in whenever Lenny approached with a dodgy invitation, which he was sure was bound to happen any minute now.

 

"I believe you're over-thinking a bit" Marley smiles at him from the seat opposite, amused, no doubt.

 

"I'm really not, I've become his punching bag"

 

This prompts a laugh from his bunkmate, who's been dozing off on the chair to the left, legs propped up on the table and arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't open his eyes.

 

"Ah, you're alive" Jack barks in his direction, matter-of-factly, then he turns back to Marley. "I'm tellin' ya, he's planning something..."

 

"Planning something..." Marley shakes his head, joining in on the laughing. "Yeah, they're planning a football match, Jackie, don't be ridiculous"

 

"Well, I ain't playin'" Collins points a finger at Marley to make a point. "And neither should you."

 

"What, and stay here playin' cards all day long? Not a chance."

 

"Don't come running to me when he knocks one of yer teeth out"

 

"I won't, that's what the nurse's for"

 

"You do know he comes from a family of prize-winning batsmen? His father is a cricket champion."

 

"It's a good thing we're playing football then."

 

Jack lets out a groan.

 

"Look at you two, bickering like a married couple" A very unwelcoming voice chimes in from behind, and Jack sends Lenny a murderous glare. "Might we expect an announcement by the end of the week?"

 

"Sod off Lenny" Jack barks at him.

 

"My my, Jackie! You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?"

 

Jack bites down another remark. He knows that him voicing his unwillingness to be called 'Jackie' will only result in everyone pointedly calling him that, so he doesn't say a word about it. He does, however, stare daggers in Marley's direction. 

 

On his left, Mike doesn't make a move; still in that uncomfortable sleeping position, but Jack knows he's the one who spilt the beans on Annabell as well, and now everyone thinks he's got a fiancée back in Aviemore. He'd been annoyed at it at first, but not long after found out that it was a very convenient lie to dodge dancing invitations from courageous young girls at the pub ( _Our Jackie's taken! Yeah, he's very loyal to his lassie back in the highlands. But I'm single!_ ).

 

"We're missing a goalkeeper, you in?" Lenny asks him first, and Jack almost lets out a disbelieving laugh; he doesn't think for a moment to mask his disinterest in participating.

 

"I am most definitely not" He says, but the spark in Lenny's eyes doesn't die, and he turns to Mike almost immediately.

 

"What about yo-"

 

" _Go away_ " Michael cuts him off with a growl.

 

This time Lenny lets out a sigh and pats Marley on the shoulder.

 

"Well, we'll see you outside in ten, Marley, what do you say?"

 

"What's in it for me?" He puts the cards down and looks up to Lenny with a face that denotes confidence. Or naivety, Jack thinks.

 

"Well, we're playing for an unopened pack of fags."

 

"I don't smoke."

  


"Just a very pleasant football game then."

 

Marley gathers his cards and glides them over to Jack on the opposite side of the table as an answer.

 

"Splendid!" 

 

Lenny pats Marley on the shoulder again with a grin and strides off with four more lads on his tail. 

 

Jack doesn't say anything when Marley stands up to change his clothes into more sporty ones but he follows him outside to the garden ten minutes later, where there are a couple of makeshift goals on each side of it and everyone's positioning on their team's side of the pitch. 

 

It's long-sleeves against rolled-up sleeves, and everyone's wearing white shirts except for the goalkeepers. Jack leans back on a window by Marley's team side. He's perhaps more sport-inept than himself, and that's saying something. Marley's also barely eighteen, so Jack might just be a little overprotective of him: he tries as much as he can to prevent him from doing stupid things, like putting himself in Lenny's line of fire, for example.

 

"This should be fun" He mumbles to himself sarcastically, as the ball enters the pitch and suddenly the players scatter around like nervous white ants.

 

Someone will surely come down and put a stop to it if it becomes too heated, he thinks, looking up to the high building standing tall behind him and on his sides. Someone will surely be keeping an eye on them from one of the windows. There's only twenty-four of them, after all, and the RAF can't afford to dismiss trainees due to broken ankles. 

 

He hopes Lenny keeps this in mind.

 

After a good twenty minutes, however, Collins finds himself sitting down on the asphalt wishing he'd brought down some pen and paper with him to practise some sketching. Everything's going smoothly: no injuries, no dangerously-fast balls aimed for Marley's wildly-curly head, not even a goal to be claimed by either team. 

 

Maybe Lenny does know he's walking on a thin line, and this was just an excuse match to falsely expose himself as an agreeable recruit in front of any high-ranked officer who might be watching in from the rooms. He's earned his troublemaker title, he has.

 

_Blimey, Jack, you really are over-reacting._

 

He decides he won't sit through the second half, and meets Marley halfway when he comes to talk to him in the five-minute break.

 

"Bored?"

 

"Yes, I'm leaving" Collins says deadpan, walking towards the big staircase that goes up to the hall with a tired pace. Maybe he should do like Mike and get some shut-eye.

 

"Get me some water will ya?" Marley asks, Jack goes up. "Before the second half starts!" He adds, and Jack closes the door behind him and drags his feet towards the kitchens despite himself. Michael is sound asleep on the chair still, and Collins makes a face at his position.

 

_That'll be a hell of a sore neck._

 

He barks what can only be an insult in Welsh when Jack tries to shake him awake though, so he leaves him be. 

 

When he returns to the garden, quite past the five-minute-break already, the match hasn't started yet and Collins sees Lenny standing in the middle of the pitch with his hands on his hips and an exasperated expression. Then he sees Matty throwing up on the side of the stairs.

 

He gives him Marley's water.

 

"Told ya to ease down on those butter biscuits"

 

"Serves him right for not sharing!"

  


Matty wipes his mouth and washes it with water.

 

"I'm alright" he says, as he straightens up, looking the opposite of alright, really.

 

"Come on then! We ain't got all day!" Someone shouts from the pitch with insistence, and Collins rolls his eyes. He strides over with the intention of dragging Matty inside when the brunette hunches down again and starts gagging for the second time.

 

"Oh for fuck's sake" Lenny mouths with a thick accent. Jack shoots him a glare, his preferred display of hatred, the usual drill.

 

He approaches Matty to try and discourage him from playing, but the ginger is already turning around and slowly walking towards the building. 

 

"Come on, you're white as a sheet" Collins tells him, and he stays near him as he goes up the stairs, at hand-reach to prevent him from falling should he trip. He doesn't, but he does let out a miserable cry as he disappears inside. 

 

"Jackie!"

 

He turns around to see Marley motioning insistently with his hand for him to join them.

 

"Come on, don't be like that!"

 

"Collins, come down and play!" Someone else shouts, insistently.

 

He knows he's only putting off the inevitable and that if he walks off now there are bound to be consequences later, like another garden spider on his stew, for example, or another empty locker in the shower room, so he makes his way down the stairs and onto the grass as he rolls his sleeves up. 

 

There's a bit of clapping and another bit of woo-ing. 

 

"Fuck me."

 

 

 

Only six minutes later he gets tackled and finds himself spitting out grass and dirt from his mouth. He takes the hand that appears before him and is swiftly up on his feet. 

 

"You alright there, Jackie?" 

 

"That was a foul" he answers, deadpan, looking at Lenny in the eye. 

 

"Was it?" Is what he says, before he turns around as the game is on again. Jack looks down to his dirty cotton trousers and lets out a sigh. He turns to send a meaningful look at Marley, who shrugs in response. 

 

Jack is a rather passive player, but there is only so much he can do to remain passive when Lenny is coming at him looking like an enraged bull. He tries to get rid of the ball as quick as possible to avoid any kind of responsibility, but alas, there is a reason why he isn't keen on sports: he sucks at it.

 

"Over 'ere!"

 

"Pass it, Jack!"

 

The third time he finds himself struggling to maintain the ball as Lenny tries to get it off him there is a clear yank on his shirt from behind, and then he's down on the grass again. It doesn't go unnoticed this time, and it is quite possibly the only reason why Collins doesn't get up and tackles Leonard down himself. 

 

"Oi!"

 

"That's a foul!"

 

"Foul! Foul!"

 

There's no referee though, so there are no cards to be pulled out as a warning. He's granted the ball again, and everyone stands in position until he kicks it and re-starts the match. 

 

His patience is running thin, and so he decides to change positions before he ends up committing a very grave foul himself. On Lenny, most likely. Something like strangulation. He gives up his midfielder position and goes to stand near Marley close to the penalty area.

  


"Does football not exist in Scotland?" Marley mocks him as soon as he's within earshot. Jack fights back a laugh.

 

 

He spots Wing Commander Farrier leaning over the stairs bannister, looking in the other goalkeeper's direction and telling something to Vincent, the cook. Michael is there as well, sitting on the first steps of the stairs and letting out a yawn.

 

"When did the Wingco come out?"

 

"Uh, he's been there for a while. _With his apple_." 

 

Jack sees Farrier indeed slice up a green apple and put a piece of it in his mouth instead of biting it. Perhaps he's a football enthusiast, Jack thinks. Or perhaps he's just as bored as the rest of them on a Sunday. 

 

Farrier is no doubt one of the younger (if not the _youngest_ ) men in the ranks, so Jack figures they are both very likely scenarios. Collins can't imagine the Air Marshal coming out to enjoy a piece of fruit as he watches them kick a stupid ball around and fall to the dirty ground, for example. He's got bigger fish to fry, and he's also over the age of seventy.

 

Perhaps the Wingco isn't as tight-up as he looks; but then again, Collins hasn't really seen him out of the classroom that much. He's quite an intimidating fellow during lessons, always a resolute stance to get his points across and being understood, standing up straight in front of them with his spotless uniform. Yet now he's laughing at something Vincent said and slicing up another piece of his apple, laid-back as Jack has never seen him before: he's getting quite a domestic scene in his head. Does Wing Commander Farrier have children? And a wife?

 

"I thought he'd come out to stop the game, after Matty we- _watch out!_ "

 

Collins doesn't watch out, because he is too busy looking at Farrier whilst Farrier isn't looking. And thus when he turns his head back to the front, to where the game he'd forgotten was taking place _is_ taking place, the white ball is coming straight for his head, for the goal, no doubt, and he happens to be just in the middle of its way. 

 

When he's down, he doesn't feel the pain for a good five seconds, what he _does_ feel is blood running down his lips and somehow going into his mouth, prompting him to cough and splutter it all over his now green-ish collar. Someone turns him on his side. Marley, no doubt. He was closest, wasn't he?

 

He coughs again and sees scarlet staining the grass below.

 

He blurts out an untelligible curse and puts a hand to his nose to try and stop the bleeding to no avail.

 

"Are you fucking blind?!" 

 

"For goodness sake, Jack!" 

 

"What a bloody idiot!"

 

"He's bleeding" Marley announces, with a shaking voice, and Collins would have smiled if he hadn't been in unbearable pain. "My, that's a lot of blood..."

 

"Well get him up, what are you waiting for?" Lenny's voice demands, impatiently, and Collins is quite sure it is Lenny who puts him on his feet as well, in such a quick motion that has him losing balance altogether.

 

He loses vision for a split second.

 

"You thick?! He can 'ave a concussion! Put him down!" Another more high-pitched voice interrupts. Collins doesn't understand any of what they're saying and he lets out a miserable groan as he's gently put back down on the grass.

 

Then Commander Farrier's voice comes in through the mumbling, making him feel yet more pathetic. 

 

"Out of my way" he says, almost a grunt, and he sounds so clear and close to him already that Jack can only guess it to be an unnecessary request: everyone had probably scattered around already at seeing him approach. 

 

Jack blinks the dizziness away and finds Farrier on his line of vision, that is, the Wingco is squatting down.

 

He's making a face.

 

Jack panics, because he's never seen Farrier's face do that, and he's become a bit of an expert on the subject, quite frankly. Farrier hardly ever shows such emotions, which can only mean Collins' face is as much a wreck as it feels.

 

When he sees the Wing Commander's hand coming towards his nose, Collins leans back out of reach as much as he can. Which is not much, since Marley is behind him preventing him from falling flat on the ground and choking again.

 

"Well I need to assess the damage and I'm afraid I do need to touch you for that" Farrier explains, his usual serious tone seemingly spiked with a bit of empathy. 

 

Collins knows this, but he repeats the action nonetheless when the Wing Commander leans in one more time. A reflex.

 

Someone tries to fight down a giggle, quite unsuccessfully, and Jack thinks that he sees the Wing Commander make another unhappy face, bordering on exasperation he thinks.

 

"Alright Collins, up you go" Farrier stands back up and extends both hands towards him as if he's offering him a hug. Marley pushes him up from behind and he manages to stand up on his own feet without swaying this time.

 

For a couple of seconds.

 

He thinks he sees Lenny close to his right about to step in, but the Wing Commander catches him first.

 

The rest of the men seem to get their voices back, then.

 

"Told you he had a concussion!"

 

"Shut it Ronald!"

 

"Me sister's a nurse I tell ya!"

  


"Did he break his nose?"  
  


 

Collins lets out a suffering groan at that, and lets himself slowly be guided away from the pitch by Farrier, who keeps a strong and steady arm around his shoulders and doesn't make a comment at his sloppy and uncoordinated steps, bless him. Marley stays close to him as well, and Vincent opens the door for them when they reach the top of the stairs. 

 

"Get rid of that ball" Collins hears Farrier bark at the cook, who so happens to be holding the remains of his apple along with the knife. They're already inside by the time he stabs the air out of it, but the loud protestations can be heard from there all the while. Jack thinks that to be a bit of an extreme punishment for what was most likely an accident, surely nobody had really meant to decapitate him?

 

"You're not taking him to the nurse's, sir?" Marley's inquisitive and timid voice speaks up, and Jack looks down and does indeed realise they're going the opposite way, towards the shower rooms. Although he's mostly concentrated on not tripping over his own feet and bringing down Farrier with him, and on not getting any blood on his impeccable uniform, so he wouldn't know either way.

 

"What for? She's in town."

 

"But then-"  
  
  
"One would think you'd all be safe from injuries on your free day, but you're a box full of surprises, aren't you lot..."  
  
  
  
And Jack would swear it on his grandfather's memory: by 'lot', Farrier meant _him_.

 

"Make yourself useful and bring me a first-aid kit, Clayton."

 

"Yes, sir"

 

Jack hears him rather than see him immediately turn around, then come back just three seconds later as Farrier is kicking open the door to the bathrooms.

 

"Uh, sir, where would I find a first aid kit?"

 

Collins feels a bit of second-hand embarrassment at that, but Farrier doesn't seem to be in a mocking mood today.

 

"Try the cupboards in the nurse's office" He simply says, and just a moment later the door closes behind them, leaving Marley fidgeting in the hallway. "Sit down and keep your head up."

 

"I keep bleedin' sire" he blurts out before he notices, accent becoming thick through the pain. Just how much blood has he lost already? Is this normal?

 

Farrier makes a guttural noise in response and comes back to him with a damp piece of cloth. Jack can't help but get rather restless at his proximity and when he goes to move away the Wing Commander places a firm hand on one of his shoulders to prevent him from doing so.

 

"None of that, stay still" his authoritarian voice comes back, and Jack's heart starts hammering in his chest. His hands now resting on each side of his body become fists and his knuckles go white. If Farrier notices him tensing over, he doesn't say a word. "You want to put it back before it gets swollen, trust me on that, seen my fair share."

 

"'Put it _back_?" Jack chokes out.

 

Farrier's intense hazel eyes stare right down at him and Jack can almost smell the apple he just ate, the closeness is making him squirmy once more. Might just be the prospect of his nose being cracked back where it belongs, however, he can't be certain.

 

"Collins..." Farrier murmurs a warning, and now the hand that was resting on his shoulder moves to his nape to keep his head steady while he cleans the blood away with the piece of fabric. Jack clenches his teeth to prevent himself from crying out. "Don't make me pin you down."

 

Collins can feel his breath getting agitated at that particular choice of words, and before he knows it Farrier is telling him to open his legs. He blinks and doesn't make a move, of course, quite certain Ronald was right and that it is the concussion making him hear things, when Farrier kicks his feet apart with insistence.

 

"Are you quite deaf as well as blind?"

 

Jack opens his mouth to apologize but finds himself at a loss for words: he can feel the heat of Farrier's body against his crotch, and he thinks that were he not bleeding out of his nose, this would be a very inappropriate position to be found in. Last time he was this intimately close to a man he hadn't been wearing pants, and he'd been pressed roughly against a wall under the dim lighting of a loo in a Scottish train-station. Indeed, in any other circumstances, it would look like something else entirely.

 

_But it ain't. It ain't something else._

 

When Farrier presses even closer against him, Collins swallows down nervously and decides that it's best to close his eyes and think of giant garden spiders. He doesn't need to, however, because right at that moment his nose snaps, sending a wave of pain through his whole face and making him forget about any other business.

 

Also, Marley comes barging in with a box on one hand and a clean shirt on the other.

 

The Wing Commander takes a couple of steps back, granting him space to move about, and glances uninterestedly at Marley who hands him the first-aid kit with a worried frown painted on his face. Jack, who's in the middle of a never-ending monologue of swearing, pays little attention to him as well.

 

"How you managed to get in with those poor reflexes, I wonder..." Farrier mutters to himself, and Collins thinks he sees him smile out of the corner of his eye.

 

He paces around restlessly, hoping that whatever the Wing Commander is rummaging for in that little red-crossed box will make the throbbing pain disappear. The ever-growing discomfort in his crotch, now that's a whole other story... Jack only hopes he's dismissed soon enough to be able to live that down.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! ♡


End file.
